The world is barely woken, the sun just stealing a glimpse over the horizon. The eastern horizon is red, and gold, and most of the sky is still dark, dark, dark. I step outside the moment there is light in the sky, and the chill in the early morning air sends a shiver down my spine. Today, Father has asked me to oversee the forges in the city. To check up on business as it were.

There are a scarce number of bodies out and about this early, which is to be expected. Shops will just be opening to beat the midday heat as the sun rises, and the few I pass seem to be various merchants or a soldier or two. Somebody must keep the peace, while the throne sits empty up in the castle. I cannot help but wonder if we have disgraced Solis in some way, for him to allow us to be abandoned in such a way.

I pray that whoever next takes the crown will not bring us all to our knees.

Father says that, regardless of what is happening, business must continue. So here I am in the earliest hours, walking the sand-covered streets. Few look me in the eye as we pass. I wonder if they are afraid, or ashamed. I do not want them to be.

I turn a corner toward the first shop, when I find myself faced with strange company. A wild dog, sniffing along the street. When it hears me it stops, large ears standing tall upon its head. We stare each other down, neither making a sound. Neither doing so much else as breathing.

In the dark, it’s difficult to tell if it is a young female who has left her pack in search of a new home, or perhaps a sick or injured one that has wandered too far in search of a meal. In either case, I hope it is alone. I have seen, on more than one occasion, a pack of wild dogs feasting on some large meal in the desert. I never got close enough to see what it was they had killed, but all know that it is easy to go missing in the Mors.

“Speaking.”